


Just to Hear You Purr

by TheRealDanniX



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, cannon adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22882510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealDanniX/pseuds/TheRealDanniX
Summary: Jaskier would likely have dismissed it as just another one of the Witcher’s growls except he could feel the sound traveling through the man’s whole body as Jaskier scrubbed the blood and guts off. Geralt had relaxed more than normal, leaning back in the tub. Then there it was.Geralt of Rivia, the great White Wolf, Expert Witcher was purring.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 943





	Just to Hear You Purr

**Author's Note:**

> I have only seen the show and gleaned somethings from the wiki page, so sorry about that. Hope you like it. Drop a comment and a kudos if you do.

The first time it happened, Jaskier almost missed it. He had been helping the Witcher bathe after a particularly nasty fight with some monster whose name Jaskier had already forgotten. It was something the pair had done several times. Every time Geralt was able to admit that the injuries had made it hard to move.

Jaskier would likely have dismissed it as just another one of the Witcher’s growls except he could feel the sound traveling through the man’s whole body as Jaskier scrubbed the blood and guts off. Geralt had relaxed more than normal, leaning back in the tub. Then there it was.

Geralt of Rivia, the great White Wolf, Expert Witcher was purring.

In the time it took Jaskier to realize this, Geralt had pulled himself away, and out of the tub entirely. Hastily dressing and stalking out of the room, he left Jaskier leaning against the tub is utter confusion.

Weeks passed, and neither spoke about it. Jaskier had nearly convinced himself that he had imagined it. Of course, he didn’t have any way to test that. Geralt would pull himself away if the bard tried to touch him without reason after that. Even when Jaskier had to bathe and clean the Witcher’s wounds, the older man would not relax at all. It was as though everything that the bard had done to earn trust was erased.

Then the Djinn had happened. When Jaskier found himself tumbling out of the witch’s house right into Geralt, he heard it again. A quiet purr as the Witcher took in the fact that his bard was still alive. Of course, there had been little time to enjoy this, as Geralt charged in after Yennefer which Jaskier found both reckless and stupid and confirming that the Witcher was, in fact, short a marble.

Jaskier figured that his chance at hearing the man purr was gone the moment Geralt turned to Yennefer. Even so, he made it his mission that every time he saw the Witcher, he would make him purr.

It didn’t work so well.

In fact, he was only able to achieve the goal twice. Both times resulting in the Witcher storming from the room, regardless of the state the man was in.

The first of the two times had been in the bath once again. Jaskier had insisted on washing Geralt’s hair, despite vocal protests and a considerable amount of growling. The bard persisted and managed to get halfway through the tangles and grit and blood that so often covered the white hair. Then he felt the tub vibrate and heard the purr. Once again, his Witcher was out of the tub and the room before Jaskier could react. It did not escape the bard’s notice that the only thing Geralt had grabbed was his pants, not even stopping to put them on.

The second of the two was after a fight. They had made it through the cleansing process without incident, much to Jaskier’s disappointment and were on the portion of the evening that consisted of Jaskier muttering to himself and working on a new tune by the fire while Geralt sat on the other side of the room, sharpening his weapons on the bed. Jaskier wasn’t sure when it happened but, at some point, his Witcher had stopped working on his weapons and started staring at the bard. He decided to ignore the golden eyes, as he plucked out a part of the tune, he was having trouble with. Jaskier felt himself smile and looked up to, admittedly, show off to Geralt. The moment he looked up he heard the purr as it rattled the bed. Then the Witcher was gone. With no cloak or shirt as he bolted from the room.

Six months after the dragon hunt, Jaskier found himself wondering if he’d ever hear anything of Geralt again. He also hated the fact that he did still care. Even armed with the knowledge that Geralt had been hurting and had chosen the easiest target didn’t soften the pain that he felt. Nor did it make it any easier when he looked around the tavern he was playing in and saw yellow eyes staring back at him. He forced himself to finish his songs, proclaiming that he needed to take a break as he stepped away from the stage and towards the dark corner of the tavern where his Witcher sits.

“Ah Geralt,” Jaskier exclaimed bitterly. “Hunting something?”

The Witcher’s eyes scanned over Jaskier. “Yes. You.” That made the bard pause and his hands shake.

“I-I- uh, oh, what?” The words that had boiled in his mind for months, that usually came so readily to his lips were gone. All he could do was stutter and stare as Geralt rose from the table.

“I was looking for you.” The White Wolf’s voice is quiet. “I-I need to apologize.” Jaskier crossed his arms and made himself meet the other man’s eyes. Silence hung in the air.

“Well?”

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

Jaskier cut him off. “Those things? You mean blaming me for every problem in your life? Or asking life to take me off your hands?”

“I shouldn’t have said any of that to you, Jaskier.” Geralt sighed. “I shouldn’t have lashed out.” He stepped closer to the bard, but Jaskier didn’t move. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could.

“But you did,” Jaskier hissed.

“You didn’t deserve that. You cared for me. And I threw that all the way. Jaskier, I’m sorry.” His Witcher reached out and hesitantly placed a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. All the pain of the last six months welled up in his eyes. Instinctively he leaned his head against the rough hand on his shoulder, taking it in his own at the same time. Jaskier wanted to respond, but his throat was sealed by silent sobs. Suddenly Geralt pulled Jaskier close to him, wrapping big arms around Jaskier’s smaller frame. “I’m sorry,” Geralt repeated.

And that was that. Jaskier accepted the apology (though not without much more yelling and plenty of tears) and they went on with their lives. Almost. Somehow heartbreak seemed to bring the two closer than ever. Jaskier was no longer the only one who initiated touch. Often, Geralt’s hands would rest on his shoulder, brush his hands, and run down his back. And Jaskier would return the touch. Geralt also talked more, not that he truly moved on from his preference for monosyllabic responses. Finally, on another night like many before, Jaskier was rubbing salve into the already closing wounds on his Witcher’s back. As he finished, he felt the vibration of a purr rumble through the injured torso in front of him. Jaskier straightened up as once again Geralt was moving before he could truly react, heading for the door.

“Will you stop doing that?” Jaskier groaned. Geralt stopped moving. If he could have, the bard was sure the Witcher’s pale face would have been bright red. “I’m not going to judge you just because you purr like a fucking lion when you actually figure out how to relax.” Jaskier crossed his arms. Geralt didn’t move. Sighing, Jaskier rose and went over to his Witcher. “Honestly, I think it’s utterly adorable that the great White Wolf purrs.” Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, ignoring the salve that would inevitably ruin his chemise. Geralt tensed.

“It’s not that,” he muttered. Jaskier leaned into him, his head resting against the older man’s shoulder.

“Then what?” Jaskier muttered. He knew he was being incredibly forward, but at that moment he didn’t care. Geralt hadn’t pushed him away, and that was a wonderous trophy for the moment, even if it meant another growling session. Geralt remained silent, his whole body tense. “If you think I’m going to rebuke you for enjoying being touched, you’ll be disappointed.”

“It’s not that either.” He pulled away and turned to face his bard. His yellow eyes fixed on Jaskier’s blue ones.

“Use your words, Witcher,” Jaskier huffed. “If you are worried that I’m going to tell the world of the purring Witcher, you are worried for absolutely no reason. I would have to be out of my mind to tell the world of such a wonderfully personal thing that the man I love does in private.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He felt his eyes get wide, and his heart start beating out of his chest. “Well, I, um, what I meant is… oh, bullocks.” Geralt stepped closer and Jaskier stepped back, knowing that his body would betray him. They repeated this process until Jaskier was pressed against a wall with the White Wolf inches from his face. Rough hands cuffed his face and Jaskier knew he was bright red. Then, gentler than the Bard had ever seen, Geralt kissed him, purring as he did, and Jaskier melted into him. The purr vibrated through both their bodies.

The Bard and his Witcher did not separate that night, nor any night afterward. Jaskier took great joy in hearing the purr whenever Geralt finally relaxed for the day, and Geralt only purred for Jaskier.


End file.
